


Signed, Sealed, Delivered

by FangQueen



Series: Daily Deviant: Membership Posting Date [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Auror!Draco, Bisexual!Ron, Erotic Messages, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Masturbation, Rimming, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Semi-public masturbation, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22293631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangQueen/pseuds/FangQueen
Summary: Draco receives a letter from his secret pen pal at work.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley
Series: Daily Deviant: Membership Posting Date [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/933396
Comments: 22
Kudos: 160
Collections: Daily Deviant





	Signed, Sealed, Delivered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [r_grayjoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/r_grayjoy/gifts).



> Written for [Daily Deviant's 2019 Edition of Kinky Kristmas](https://daily-deviant.dreamwidth.org/10426.html?page=2#comments), for the [Comment Kink](https://daily-deviant.dreamwidth.org/10426.html?thread=18362#cmt18362) portion of the festivities, in response to r_grayjoy’s request for:
> 
>  **Please kink up my Kristmas with:**  
>  **Pairing(s)/Character(s):** Snape/Sirius, Snape/Remus, Harry/Draco, Ron/Draco  
>  **Kink(s):** erotic letters/messages, masturbation  
>  **Anti-Kink(s) (AKA Squicks):** the usual extra hard kinks, excessive schmoop  
>  **Prompt:** Character A decides to send Character B some very interesting letters/messages. (Or maybe it becomes a two-way exchange.) Character B doesn't know who the mystery author is... or maybe he's just pretending not to know.
> 
> Thank you so much for the prompt! I cannot begin to apologize for how long it took me to complete since claiming. Sometimes I forget this is meant to be a comment kink, not a whole thing, lol ― so I hope you don't mind that I ended up bookending the smut with a bit of, well, plot and _feelings_. A thousand thank yous to keyflight790 for the beta ― you are a treasure, as always. <333

Kingsley Shacklebolt had, upon officially taking the position of Minister for Magic several years prior, instituted an 'open door' policy throughout the organization, requiring that all office doors remained open during operating hours, except in the cases of private meetings or other special circumstances. Apparently, it was meant to foster department cohesion ― a feeling that you could go to your co-worker or supervisor at any time with any problem, and they'd be there to help you.

It was days like these, when all he could hear was one of the Junior Aurors gushing on about their recent engagement at one end of the room, a group of senior staff gossiping lewdly about their dates over the past weekend at the other, that Draco seriously considered turning in a strongly-worded letter of complaint.

Today, he instead gritted his teeth and reminded himself that people were allowed to be happy.

Draco Malfoy didn't date. At least, not much ― and not publicly. He hadn't found many interested in what he had to offer these days. It wasn't that he wanted to get _married_ , exactly ― because he didn't. He just wanted someone to come home every once in awhile, and he hadn't found anyone willing to take him up on that offer. He couldn't blame them, of course; no one would choose to date an ex-Death Eater if given the option. Or rather, there were a few left out there who would, but they were not someone _he_ wanted.

He'd been surprised when he'd been hired on as an Auror. He'd puttered about for a few years following the war, scraping by on the meager remains of his family's fortune after the Ministry raids, until desperation had him seeking employment. The Ministry didn't seem the type of place to welcome his kind anymore, but he was an alright dueler and had been a quick study at wandwork in school, so he'd submitted a rather sparse resume and anticipated a resounding no.

The law said they couldn't exactly _discriminate_ ― he'd been cleared of all charges, after all, thanks to the famous Harry Potter's own testimony ― but it had become apparent rather soon after he'd started that they didn't feel those policies were required to extend to his daily life in the department. Despite having gone through the same academy, having taken part in the same training and exams, as any other Auror recruit, from the very moment he'd graduated to actual practising Auror, he'd been forced into strictly desk duty cases. He had come out top of his training class three years prior, and he'd never been in the field. There was really only one explanation for it. He was reminded of it every time he undressed, catching a glimpse of fading black ink on his forearm.

"Harry! Lunch?"

Draco signed the bottom of a document and slapped the file shut, tossing it into the tray on his desk marked 'Completed'. His eyes flicked to the open door.

"Yeah, gimme a mo'."

Ron Weasley. Ginger, freckled, boyish even in his late twenties ― and yet somehow positively enchanting, and altogether infuriating. Draco would be lying if he said he hadn't been intrigued when Weasley had broken things off with Granger three years back. Even more so that he'd not done much but go on a handful of dates here and there since then. Not that Draco was counting, of course. He couldn't help it if he'd been assigned the office squashed in between theirs ― nor that the Ministry's walls were so thin.

Weasley paused on his way to Potter's office and leaned against Draco's doorframe. "Alright, Malfoy?" he asked with an amiable nod.

"Weasley," Draco returned crisply. He gathered the stack of completed cases and turned his back to begin slotting them into the filing cabinet.

"You off to lunch as well?"

Draco's stomach chose that exact moment to give a feeble grumble, which only served to further irritate him. "No, I happen to have a great deal of work to do."

"Still on the Edwards case?"

Draco could hear the grin in Weasley's voice. He slid the next file in his hands back into its drawer with a bit more force than necessary.

Case #267956, in which a Mr. Nigel Edwards accused a Mrs. Elizabeth Connelly of purposefully persuading her trio of purebred Crups to defecate in his yard for a number of months, and in which Mrs. Connelly assured the Aurors she had done no such thing, but if she had, it would've only served Mr. Edwards right considering he had 'accidentally' desecrated her newly-planted begonias whilst pruning his nearby rose bushes last spring. Draco wasn't sure what about _any_ of that was the Auror department's problem, but he had long since given up questioning the utter bollocks they continued to dump on his already overburdened desk.

Mr. Edwards was expecting a reply to their most recent correspondence by that afternoon. Draco wasn't exactly keen on processing it. Not to mention his other cases currently awaiting necessary updates ― he doubted he'd be getting to lunch at all today. But that's what the hidden tin of shortbread in the bottom drawer of his desk was for.

"Yes," he ground out.

Weasley snorted. "Load of rubbish."

"Quite."

Weasley's voice suddenly sounded closer. Draco glanced behind him, expecting him to be right there, but found Weasley shuffling just inside the door. Odd, that.

Potter appeared out in the main room, pulling a winter cloak on over his uniform. He nodded to Weasley. "Ready?"

"Yup. Was just asking after Malfoy's lunch plans, but seems he has a date with a mountain of paperwork."

"Some of us actually work around here," Draco said with a sniff.

Potter gave him an excessively feigned saccharine look. "He feels left out."

"Oh, do piss off, Potter," Draco tossed over his shoulder as he slammed the last drawer of the cabinet shut, "and take the Weasel with you."

The words might have come out harsher than he'd intended, because the pair said nothing in return, and by the time Draco had turned around again, they were gone. Of course he'd known they were only joking. It wasn't something he thought he'd ever get used to, even if it had grown easier to recognize. They'd been surprisingly kind to him since he'd been hired on. They hadn't had to work half as hard to get where they were in the department, and Draco could tell they knew that, too. Sometimes, though, he wondered if they just felt sorry for him.

Draco sighed, now that he was alone, intending to finally get down to crafting his ― carefully worded ― response to Mr. Edwards.

Then he noticed it.

There was a letter on his desk.

Or, more specifically, there was a single, unfamiliar, off-white envelope resting on the remaining stack of case files in the corner, that he was, without a doubt, absolutely positive had not been there before.

Draco glanced around his office, then to the main floor, where Weasley and Potter's retreating backs were just slipping out to the hallway. The Ministry didn't permit owl delivery in the building, and if the mail trolley had stopped by in the short time his back had been turned, he certainly would've noticed. He stepped up to his desk, his heart jumping into his throat as he read the one word ― a name ― hastily scribbled across the front.

His hands shook as he tore open the envelope.

Wands Out was an anonymous owl service for wizards to converse with other like-minded wizards, and Draco had resignedly signed himself up for it about six months back following another failed date. It had been two in the morning, and he'd been wine-drunk and miserable, and although he'd somewhat regretted it in the morning, he hadn't found it in himself to cancel his subscription. They didn't advertise themselves as a _strictly_ sex-based business, but their customers stood on no such ceremony. Draco had corresponded with several men he'd lost his tastes for rather quickly ― the memory of one who'd sent a request for pictures of his feet, without so much as a hello, still made him shudder ― before 'Abraxas' found 'Bilius'.

_I think about that all the time, actually._

Draco swallowed. He read the line again.

The last letter he'd sent his pen pal had been written after a night out the previous Friday. Pansy had abandoned him for her new girlfriend, and Draco had done his level best with the Muggle who'd been giving him looks across the dance floor all night, only to scurry away to the relative safety of the bar when said man had attempted to suck his lungs out via his mouth. He'd ordered another shot for comfort. A couple had slipped up beside him while he waited, their arms draped affectionately across each other's shoulders, and pecking each other happily. It had made his chest ache, and he'd taken the Knight Bus home shortly after.

In the quiet solitude of his studio flat, he'd imagined a fated meeting. Them, spotting each other across the crowded floor, just _knowing_. What he would've done, had Bilius been there. He'd written it all out to him ― every sordid detail. _Quite silly, isn't it_ , he remembered adding in a fit of self-consciousness when he'd begun to sober up towards the end.

_Sometimes I'm sat at Sunday dinner with my family ― huge, really, whole lot of us, I'm sure I've told you ― and I look at my siblings and their spouses and think…'well, fuck', you know? Why can't I have that? I think we can. I think we don't allow ourselves to, for whatever reason._

Draco wasn't so sure. Bilius didn't know who Abraxas really was, of course ― at least, Draco didn't _think_ he did ― and Draco was pretty sure _if_ he did, he'd have different ideas about that.

_You say you're 'unlovable', but I don't see how that could be true._

Now Draco grimaced. He _had_ said that, hadn't he? He felt a bit ashamed; he didn't want Bilius to think he was fishing for compliments.

But then his mind stuttered for a moment as he read the next line.

_If you were here, I'd show you how you wrong you are about that._

"Janice?"

The Junior Auror looked up from her paperwork. Draco hovered in his doorway across from her, his hand gripping the frame to steady himself.

"I'll be taking lunch in my office today. Hold my fire-calls, if you would."

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco locked the door and settled himself into his chair, smoothing his hands along the edges of the letter.

Having sex with someone in writing had been odd at first. Their initial correspondence had been stilted, awkward, perhaps even overdone. Draco couldn't say if they'd gotten better over time, but there was something about the sight of Bilius' untidy scrawl that relaxed him. He'd never intended for their discussions to turn personal. It had been a sexual outlet, for the times when porn didn't feel like enough. But talking to Bilius just _was_ that way, whether he meant it to be or not. His words gave the air of someone friendly, casual. Someone Draco found he could tell things to easily.

Now, though ― now he didn't feel relaxed as he continued to scan the page. He felt hot, his trousers growing tight, even as his heart thudded with the reminder of just when this particular letter had shown up.

Draco glanced at the door. He hadn't done much himself to alter his vernacular in his writing. He wondered if he'd been terribly obvious.

_Take Sunday dinners, for example._

Draco leaned back in his chair, his tongue flicking across his lips.

_I'm writing you after this week's get-together, and I've gotta tell you, I was thinking about that letter the whole bloody night. I know if I'd had you with me, I wouldn't have been able to take my hands off you._

He considered throwing up a Silencing charm. There was no way to get away without someone else in the office noticing, and so he bit his bottom lip, swallowing a groan as he cupped himself through the trousers beneath his Auror robes.

_I'd tease you when no one's looking, all night till you finally got fed up and dragged me into the loo while Mum got ready for pudding. So many people in the house, no one would notice we'd gone. We'd barely have the door closed before we're snogging against the wall._

With a wave of his hand, he sent the pages of the letter to float in the air in front of his face. He unzipped his trousers, pushing everything down his thighs, and his hard cock sprang free.

_I'd flip you around, make you watch yourself in the mirror as I pull your trousers down and get on my knees behind you. I'd bite and kiss that perfect arse before slipping my tongue between your cheeks, lick you open, stretch you with my fingers. I'd go on till you're nearly coming into the sink._

Draco arched into the hand stroking him, the other shooting up to grip the back of his chair. He didn't regret telling Bilius he was a secret fan of that, especially after finding out he was more than willing to do it. He imagined that insistent tongue fucking into him now and tugged his lower lip between his teeth.

_But I wouldn't be done with you yet. You're so posh, I bet you'd whinge about us taking too long ― propriety, or some shite. 'They'll suspect', you'd say. But I know you'd be loving it._

Merlin, would he.

The posh bit was an inside joke between them now. Bilius had made a comment early on, poking fun at how proper Abraxas sounded, even when describing truly filthy acts. Draco had admitted in his reply that he'd always loved the idea of rough handling, of having his supposed 'poshness' broken down. He'd felt rather proud over the barely coherent response Bilius had sent him a mere five minutes later.

Draco stroked himself faster, his stomach muscles clenching. A man on his knees for him ― _worshipping_ him, to quote the term Bilius often used. Especially the fact that Bilius was saying he'd fantasized about bringing Abraxas to dinner with his family. Draco whined in the back of his throat as he twisted his palm around the head of his cock. Salazar, he was pathetic, wasn't he?

_I'd bend you over the sink._

When Draco pictured Billius, he always saw bright red hair and striking blue eyes, a grin that infuriated him. He liked to think he didn't know why, but he did. Merlin, he did. He imagined that man now ― big, freckled hands pressing against his hip, the space between his shoulder blades.

_I'd conjure some lube and slide into you, fucking you hard and fast._

With a low growl, Draco planted one shoe on the edge of the desk, canting his hips nearly off his seat. The angle was rubbish, and his trousers were stretched taut between his thighs, but he managed to slip a forefinger down between his cheeks. He rubbed the pad around the rim of his hole, and even that slight touch had his eyes rolling back in his head.

He couldn't focus enough to read the rest. He could see a man fucking him over that sink, and fucking hell, he knew who it was, even if he didn't want to say it aloud. Could see the strong arms holding him, ginger hair shifting in the overhead light as pale lips mouthed at the back of his neck, freckled skin peeking out from under clothing they'd only half removed. Could practically feel those hips snapping into him as his own finger circled his hole once more. He wanted to believe it could be true, to believe that ―

And then he was coming, his leg shaking where it held him against the desk as he curled in on himself. Draco let his breath out slowly, holding back a moan and pumping his release onto his stomach.

Draco slumped in his chair, a gangle of long, sated limbs. With a flick of his hand, Bilius' letter drifted back to rest in the neat empty space in the middle of his desk. He waited several moments till he felt he could breathe properly again, could move his arms from where they lay across his stomach. He fumbled for his wand in the holster draped across the back of his chair and cleaned himself off.

Now that his other ― more pressing ― needs had been satisfied, he was aware of the relative quiet of his office, and his sudden, pervading hunger. His stomach gave an insistent grumble. He finally opened the door and made his way to the little shared kitchenette to refresh his tea, attempting to ignore the incessant, burning notion that everyone was looking, that everyone _knew_. Of course no one did; they went about their day same as ever, and he returned to his office and broke out the shortbread from his bottom drawer.

As he munched, his fingers toyed with a corner of the letter. He spent a lovely few moments once again imagining the climax of their encounter as Bilius finished describing his fantasy.

Normally, now would be the time when Bilius would quickly sign off ― presumably before he lost his nerve ― always with the assurance that he hoped they'd speak again soon. Draco read the next line of this letter, and immediately had to go back and read it again.

_You can tell me to shove off if I'm out of line here, but I think I'm ready to meet if you are._

Draco blinked dumbly at the sentence, his brow furrowed. Below it was an address ― he recognized it as the new Indian restaurant that had just opened on the Muggle side of Diagon Alley.

_I'll be there at 7 tonight. Let me know if that doesn't work for you, but otherwise...I'll see you there?_

Just then, Potter and Weasley's voices drifted in from the main room ― far off, but getting closer. Panicking, Draco shoved the letter under the nearest case file, pulling another one towards him along with his quill and flipping open to a random page. He was pretending to give a stuff about a memo from Muggle Artifacts regarding the Greens' boy ― who kept charming various balls to chase the neighbor's dog, rather than the other way around ― when he heard Potter at his door.

"Still at it, Malfoy? You need to eat sometime, you know."

Draco indicated the shortbread with a tight-lipped expression, not trusting his voice at the moment. Potter shook his head with a good-natured smile before heading on to his office.

Draco waited for Weasley to do the same. When he didn't, Draco set down his quill, his heart beating steadily in his chest. Then he stood, suddenly jittery, and crossed his arms. Weasley took a step inside his office. Draco could see him glancing at his desk, taking in the hitherto barely touched stack of files, the tin of shortbread left open at the opposite corner.

"How was your lunch?" Draco found himself asking.

"Hmm? Oh, good. Great."

"Great," Draco parroted awkwardly, lacing his arms a little tighter across his chest.

"Yeah…"

The silence made Draco squirm. His eyes snapped back to Weasley's face as he spoke again.

"And yours?"

Weasley studied him, his gaze trailing down to the heat Draco could feel blooming around his collar.

"Great," Draco said again, his voice faltering on the tail end of the word.

Weasley nodded, his mouth set in a thin line. But there was something in the way he was looking at him, and it made Draco's stomach flip. He licked his lips self-consciously, flushing further when Weasley's eyes immediately flicked down again to follow the movement. Weasley smirked, then, just a little, as he took in Draco's reaction. Draco thought he might pass out.

Then Weasley nodded once more, and said, "Well, enjoy your paperwork, Malfoy."

Draco let out a breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding as he watched Weasley leave.

His stomach grumbled at him for the third time that afternoon. Turned out his shortbread desk lunch had done little to satisfy him after all. He'd have to make sure he got a hearty dinner. Curry sounded lovely.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/comments = <3!
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://fangqueen.tumblr.com/), [LJ](http://fangqueen.livejournal.com/), and [DW](https://fangqueen.dreamwidth.org/) as well!


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